


dance, when you're broken open

by ninanna



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Asexuality, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Slow Dancing, but mostly shameless fluff, kind of melancholic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 21:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/pseuds/ninanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi would like to crumble his young, adamant fan's unnecessary crush for him into oblivion, or maybe slow dance with him into the night sky and reach for the stars of hope, or maybe punch himself in the face for his own emotional constipation. Eren is truly relentless though-- and beautiful, Levi realises, and asks himself again and again; "Why is he so beautiful?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	dance, when you're broken open

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a Valentine's story with asexual Levi in it because I headcanon Levi to be in the ace spectrum. I also really like the idea of artsy Eren falling for Levi's figure and grace and personality-- the last one is a bit of a surprise but hey, every rose has its thorns.

“The cutie is here again. At the Golden Room.”

 

He doesn’t need to look at Hanji to know that they have a shit-eating grin on; the glee is dripping from their voice. It pisses him off. It actually pisses him off more than the fact that the kid is back… again.

 

He is not sure what he should do next; he already tried murderous glares and ridiculing side comments. Perhaps, if he was any less professional about his occupation, he would half-ass his service—he has always been a perfectionist though, so it is not an option. He does not know how this particularly dedicated customer even finds the funds to ask for a lap dance from him twice every single week; it costs quite a bit and the guy couldn’t be a day older than twenty. So he has a rich, young fan; most other dancers would be ecstatic about it but it only exasperates Levi. He had to deal with quite a few stalker cases in the past and while he does not mind the boost to his paycheck, the way the kid’s eyes gleam with hope every time they see each other leaves a certain distaste in his mouth.

 

It is probably because the damned bastard is right the type he likes the most—unruly thick eyebrows and a beautiful smile; there’s a touch of naïveté in his every expression that is underlined by things not naïve at all—such as the fact that they are literally in a strip club, or the all-consuming gaze the young man gives as Levi dances. The mix though only makes him more attractive for Levi.

 

Thus, Levi sighs. He is honestly tired of this—this emotional frustration he has been dealing with for years now, this tendency of complete strangers projecting their fantastical ideas onto him, this peculiar fan of his skill and unlikeable persona. It is Thursday and he is so, so tired.

 

He struts towards the ‘Golden Room’, one of their most expensive private booths and like always finds the current bane of his existence sitting there nervously. Oh great, he is even clutching his leather messenger bag today like an out of place student. He sighs again, loudly this time, and it catches the boy’s attention.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey…? This is your third time here this week Eren.”

 

Technically, he should not talk like that; why is he even interrogating this young man instead of graciously accepting the extra cash? Eren always tips generously too. Instead of being offended at the remark though, Eren’s bronze cheeks shine with a flush and he turns his eyes to his lap.

 

“Uh yeah… it’s been pretty boring these days.”

 

“So? When you’re bored you come to a high-end strip club?”

 

“Um, this place is a bar too?”

 

“Yeah, it is. Yet here we are, for the third time this week, in a private room because you asked for a private lap dance.”

 

“I’m sorry, were you busy?”

 

Levi is not sure if he wants to pull his hair out or scream or kick this guy in the nuts or just pull him close into a crushing hug. What the fuck. This is his job—this is literally his job so what the fuck kind of a statement is that. He manages a grimace even though his lips are twitching to smile. What a loveable asshat.

 

“Eren, I’m a stripper and I give lap dances as part of my job. This is literally my job. How could I be busy for it?”

 

“Oh… well, I thought if you had other customers and stuff.”

 

“I do but apparently you managed to get yourself into my schedule that I’m here.”

 

“Ah that’s probably because of Hanji, I kind of begged her.”

 

“Them.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You kind of begged _them_ —not her.”

 

“Ah… Yeah. _Them_. I kind of begged them.”

 

“Why the fuck would you beg them?”

 

“Because… I wanted to see you?”

 

Or perhaps Levi should slap himself. That sounds like a good idea too. If this was a decade ago, he would lose himself in a blazing blush. Luckily, it is not a decade ago; he has perfected his poker face and that includes keeping tabs on his complexion and bodily reactions too. He’s as pale as he already is when he answers:

 

“Is that all? You’re paying for lap dances because you want to see me?”

 

“Yes. No. I mean your dancing is just… Especially your lap dances…”

 

“Is just what?”

 

Eren’s arms flail and his hands fumble in the air making weird gestures only to plop down on his sides uselessly as he looks with disappointment and frowns a little.

 

“I—I don’t know how to explain…”

 

Levi sighs once more and looks up at the ceiling. The gaudy chandelier is too bright and piquing his migraine, but he does catch the sight of a small smudge on the lilac paint; he should get Mike to clean that shit tomorrow. He cannot bear to look at the ceiling when it’s like this.

 

“It’s just… mesmerising.” Eren whispers audibly then and Levi lowers his gaze back to the man-child before him. Eren’s hands are on his lap now and he is playing with his own fingers, eyes concentrated there too—it is as if he is watching something specific, but likely he is simply recalling something. Levi has no idea what but it seems to interest Eren immensely.

 

“You move with such grace, without any stutter; it is like the flowing of a mighty river on a calm summer day or the way big cats of the jungle stalk their prey…”

 

Levi’s lips part and he gapes—did this kid memorise those lines or something? Does he write poetry about Levi in his free time? It would be both endearing and creepy, Levi concludes. Eren peers but as soon as their eyes make contact, he pulls his gaze back to his lap again, now even tips of his ears red. No. Fuck. Hell, no. Levi really cannot do this. He needs a drink.

 

“Where do you even find the money? You’re not stealing are you?”

 

“What?! No! I work you know!” Eren is so offended—finally—and even manages a glare back. Levi is happy for it because it helps calm down the way his heart was hopping inexplicably a moment ago.

 

“Do you have a thing for me?”

 

Eren’s difficultly achieved glare crumbles as his eyes widen and he gawks. The redness spreads even to his neck—hell, he doesn’t blush so much even when Levi is sprawled all over him… it is too cute. Hell, indeed, Levi thinks.

 

“Ah... It’s—it’s obvious… huh?”

 

“You spend around two nights a week here and spend a small fortune and fluster and shit so I guess yeah, it’s kind of fucking obvious.”

 

Eren purses his lips for second before muttering; “So?”

 

“So? So what?”

 

“Hypothetically, if I’m interested in you, what would be your—“

 

“No.”

 

“But I didn’t even fini—“

 

“No. Nope.”

 

“You’re that certain?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“I’m twenty-one.”

 

“Huh. Older than expected. Still no. And instead of wasting your money on dancers, you should save it or something while you’re still young.”

 

“I’m not wasting it!” Eren stands up abruptly and there’s a pained sort of anger on his face. Levi sighs again and it is as if with the air coming out of his lungs, Eren’s fury subsides as well… He looks almost guilty now, still standing right in front of Levi.

 

“I’m not really in the mood for it but whatever, come on, let’s get this over with.”

 

He is being unfair. Very unfair, considering this is his work—he shouldn’t have even gotten into this conversation. Why did he? Why did he have to go and mention Eren’s obvious little secret crush too? Perhaps, he wanted to be a tad bit cruel. Perhaps, since he will not achieve his own happiness—he is about seventy percent sure of that after the way his last three relationships turned out—he likes to piss on others’ hopes and dreams too. And he should not. He is being overtly mean. And Eren is not sitting. There is something wrong.

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel like dancing…” Eren explains calmly.

 

“You paid for it.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m fine if you don’t want to.”

 

“What is your problem?”

 

Eren feels hurt at the question and Levi is not sure why. He is also a bit mystified by how every single tide of sentiment Eren carries shows so transparently on his face—it is enchanting. He blinks. Fuck, no. It is not enchanting. It shouldn’t be. It is disturbing, that’s what it is—he tries to convince himself, at least. He expects Eren to lash out; he has seen this kid go berserk at a groper one night, has watched him closely enough to recognise how easily his rage can be triggered. Yet the hurt does not lead to anger and instead Eren smiles, a bit too broken and sad of a smile though and it somehow inflicts a tiny injury in Levi’s heart too.

 

“Nothing… I just really like seeing you.”

 

“You don’t even know me.”

 

“Yeah. No. I mean I know a bit and the bit I know is just—“ He does the weird flailing again, his hands shaking and turning in the air in futile movements before he huffs, “just—perfect. Yeah, perfect.”

 

Despite all his habits and sense of security screaming _“no”_ , Levi cannot help the snort that escapes his lips and it instantaneously uplifts Eren’s mood. It is… nice, very nice to see this—the way Eren’s lips first part in surprise and then curl up slightly with satisfaction and relief and the stress between his eyebrows relax. _“Why is he so beautiful?”_ Levi grimly muses inside his head.

 

“If—if you feel uncomfortable with me, I mean I’m not a stalker or anything at all, but if you feel uncomfortable because of my—well… crush? Yeah, because of my crush, I can stop coming. But if you don’t mind I… kind of really like seeing you dance?”

 

Levi wonders what would happen if he were to say yes—not to Eren continuing visiting, but to the whole shebang. What would happen if he closed the two steps of distance between them and put his arms around those shoulders and rose on his toes to capture the fleshy lips that Eren was busy nervously nibbling right now. What would happen if he was the one to nibble on them and hold this boy who is too cute for a living, breathing human being—what would happen?

 

Nothing good probably.

 

At least most his past experiences dictate so. Expectations people have versus the reality of him are so unbelievably apart and in no way is he an easy person in the first place, making everything much harder. He sighs—he feels that he sighs too much generally and even more so around Eren. With the thought of Eren. Damn this infuriating boy of unadulterated hope and unabashed sincerity.

 

“Eren, this is a club and you’re a paying customer and you’ve never harassed me or anyone. You don’t have to stop coming only because I rejected you.”

 

He can see how the young man is aching just as the “ _I rejected you_ ” spills out of his mouth but Eren manages to not let it shatter his sad little smile.

 

“Ah… okay then. I guess I’ll see you some time later.”

 

As every rational part of him is chanting him not to—and there’s something profoundly wrong with him tonight because he is usually not this dismissive of his inner voice— he says a single word that makes Eren stop immediately.

 

“Wait.”

 

A pair of amber eyes is glued on him with curiosity and he cannot satisfy—he knows he cannot in any way—what he is being asked of but perhaps he can at least give this lovely young gent a bone? Also, he is tired and he could use a drink and Eren doesn’t seem to mind the fact that he paid for a dance but didn’t get one and it is probably awfully unprofessional for Levi to let it go like this, but something about the night (he has always hated Valentine’s—all the chocolate he cannot have because of his diabetes and the idea of reducing love to dead flowers and machine made greeting cards miff him a lot) or something about Eren (he has always had a soft spot for this young thing—he really should not, he knows, but when has his heart has ever listened to him) makes him to want to just… maybe talk with this fascinating stranger than to straddle him once more only to be parted with very few words and puzzled feelings.

 

Plus, maybe if they talk, this bizarre yearning he has will go away. Maybe this unnecessary crush Eren harbours will just suffocate and die. Maybe it will be good for them.

 

“Come on, I can at least get you a drink?”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

Levi draws his eyebrows together; he really cannot deal with this crap. He has never been good at flirting or demanding things from others anyway; he is good with simulating sexual desire or vomiting his thoughts without filter but he is shit with actual words and sentences and questions and civility and—

 

“I don’t have to but I want to.”

 

And maybe that was not how he should have put it. Because after a momentary blank stare, Eren smiles so happily as if Levi has just promised him dominion over half the world. It ignites this series of invisible fireworks under Levi’s skin and he can feel his flesh itching with giddy contentment. He does not want it to. Not so much at least—to affect and be affected like this. It scares him, in all honesty. Not knowing what to do and too fatigued and confused to deal with the emotional disaster he’s carrying inside, he sighs. Eren continues smiling—perhaps his sighs are losing their impact. That would be a tragic loss.

 

He moves towards the door and passes by Eren and yes, perhaps his arm brushes over Eren’s but that is almost certainly a coincidence. Eren follows him to the bar in the main area like a faithful pilgrim and once they settle down, it’s Levi who orders for the both of them. A couple of shots later, Eren is talking excitedly about his passions—quite a few apparently. First and foremost of all, Levi learns that he is studying sculpture and very ardent about his art. He also seems to be sensitive about the world, venting about anything and everything he finds important. He jumps from protecting the environment to the immediate need for increasing the minimum wage. It’s the strangest conversation Levi has had in his workplace that’s for sure and he finds a delectable peace listening to Eren’s soft voice bleed into higher pitches or drop low as he goes on and on.

 

When he is recounting a joyful story or a titbit about a close friend, he beams and it is as if the sun has risen within the enclosed space. When he is ranting about a government policy or rampant sexism, his eyebrows furrow and lips curl down at the ends as he shakes his head negatively with vigour. It is like watching a particularly well-acted monologue. Levi is lost in his observation of Eren, sipping lazily from his drink and never drifting his gaze even a millimetre apart.

 

“I’m not saying that art is not for art’s sake, I’m saying that it can be, but when one’s experience is so deeply ingrained with injustice they’ll of course make art that—God … You’re really beautiful.”

 

Levi blinks at the sudden shift and his bafflement seems to embarrass Eren.

 

“It’s just—you were looking so… I guess I’m not used to beautiful people staring at me… Ugh—just forget what I said.”

 

Levi smirks—he has heard this sort of compliments from many others before. While he enjoys this honest adoration, especially when it’s from this particular brunet, it’s still only skin-deep, which makes it slightly dissatisfying.

 

“Not just… your body though.” Eren mumbles then with a pout and if Levi was the superstitious type, he’d start suspecting whether or not Eren had the ability to read minds. He is not though; so he thinks the kid might just be a very perceptive one. It still makes him glare at Eren—he’s not cognisant of this until it causes the poor boy to awkwardly try laughing to dispel the tension that’s actually non-existent and he takes a long sip from his drink immediately afterwards, in obvious efforts to boost his confidence.

 

“I mean… I like your personality too.”

 

People have complimented Levi about his body, his skills in sports and dancing, and his keen if a bit pompous sense of style. People have never complimented Levi about his personality. He does not wonder why. So it does shock him quite a bit to hear this.

 

“What?”

 

“Sure, I understand, we don’t know each other well but at least the parts that I’ve seen?”

 

“Eren, I rarely talk and when I talk it’s half indecipherable bullshit and half pure shit. I glare any time I’m not dancing. I sometimes glare even when I’m dancing.”

 

“It’s because you concentrate! And that’s just the way your face is. Plus personality is not about demeanour. It’s the little things, I think… Like, how you helped Petra without any words and so smoothly when that douchebag dudebro tried to make a move on her… Or the time when that old rich lady was pestering the freckled bartender and you intervened and charmed the lady even though you didn’t need to…”

 

He hasn’t realised that Eren realised such things. He himself hadn’t realised them much specifically, actually.

 

“It’s just—I think you’re a protective person, you look out for others. Like after the club closes I saw you give the leftover food to the homeless around the street and you don’t have to do that. But you do. You care for others.”

 

Levi downs his glass. Mostly so that he can rise his glass to cover at least some of his face and hide the heat he’s feeling on his cheeks. Mostly so that he can forget about what Eren just said and not only the words but the way he said it—eyes twinkling with admiration, lips in the softest, the most pleased curve. Such a swift, sneak attack; he couldn’t have anticipated this. He is touched.

 

“And I respect you a lot as an artist and athlete too…” Eren admits further, playing with his own glass, still half full.

 

That’s odd.  Levi is certain he never talked about his youth as a gymnast or his current passion for parkour. He signs to Connie for a refill. At least Eren is not gushing about his… personality, anymore. But could he be a stalker or something? He really does not seem the type at all. But then you never know; especially with online stalking… Levi has had far too many customers who Facebook-stalked him and it’s annoying beyond belief.

 

“You choreograph your own stuff right?”

 

 

“Yes?”

 

“I knew it. It’s obvious because your style is so much different than most others in the club… You incorporate moves from more established traditions…” Eren’s eyes are twinkling again and he nods thoughtfully a few times before concluding; “It’s very eclectic.”

 

Levi just stares at him for a second. “Very eclectic?”

 

“Yes! And uh… I don’t know how you trained but it must have been tough, right? I mean you’re so fit and flexible. I don’t know if I should be jealous or… charmed… or something.” He scratches the left side of his head before grinning. “A bit of both, I guess?”

 

“Well… it’s sure as hell not easy.”

 

“I bet! I saw your performance on Tuesday at the pole… It was incredible. The way you walked in the air? Just looking at it my arms hurt…”

 

Eren actually frowns by the end of his sentence, as if his arms are in pain just from remembering and it successfully draws a smug snicker from Levi. It indeed kills his arms too—no matter how well-trained he is; it is very exhausting. But definitely worth it. He takes pride in his abilities and effort, even though most of the drunk assholes in his audience cannot appreciate it. The fact that Eren watched and recognised his skills though—it only adds to the warm breezes that the brunet so easily whispers into his core. It heartens him and he’s afraid he’ll want more of this internal summer courtesy of Mr. Beautiful and Sincere.

 

Eren is tapping his fingers in tandem with the tempo of the song playing in the background of the bar area. It gives Levi an ample opportunity to change the topic.

 

“You’re probably not that bad at dancing either though.”

 

“Huh? Me? I completely suck.”

 

“Don’t shit with me now, you can hold a rhythm pretty well. By now I’ve lost the count of how many times I’ve been to your lap and you always hum to the music.”

 

Eren flusters and it is so terribly cute that Levi gulps down half his refilled drink.

 

“That—that’s kind of different though, isn’t it? I can carry a rhythm mostly thanks to my mum.”

 

“Mum?” Levi deadpans and Eren chuckles.

 

“She is—well… was a pianist. Rheumatoid arthritis got her at forty. She can’t really use her hands anymore…” Eren trails off, the soft smile not leaving his lips but eyes drifting from Levi’s face to his glass.

 

“That must have been tough…” Levi honestly cannot even imagine how distraught he would be if he was struck with such an illness. Inside his mind, he recites a little prayer of thanks for his good health.

 

“It was…” Eren mumbles, his eyes still on his glass but Levi knows he is seeing anything but that—probably thinking of his mother.

 

“Anyway,” he starts again after the long pause, “when I was young, she’d play a lot for me and I also loved listening to her train… So yes, I can hold a tune.”

 

“You can hold a tune but not dance?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I’m serious Levi! My hand-feet coordination is plain terrible. It’s a wonder how I manage to walk.”

 

“I can work with that.”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Come on.”

 

Levi stands up and strolls to the room that they came from less than an hour ago. His own appointment with Eren was the last of the sessions for the room, since they close the private quarters earlier and the club itself will close in less than an hour. As he makes it to the small room with garish decoration, he does not allow himself to consider why he is doing this.

 

If anyone was to ask, he’ll say he felt like it. And it is probably quite close to the truth; on a whim, he simply wants to put his hands on this young man. And not because he is being paid to do so—in a way he is, still, but the allocated time for Eren’s order has long ended and Levi is officially off the clock. Perhaps, then, it is a bit unethical for him to use the room—but who cares? He certainly does not and it’s not like it would be used for anything else; it’s not as if he’s making a dent in Erwin’s prosperous business.

 

“Shut the door.”

 

Not only did Eren follow him wordlessly but he obediently follows this order as well while Levi searches for a proper song on the player. Something slow but not too slow or sentimental, preferably sensual—yes, slow and sensual is good. He finds one that will do and taps on the little triangle, causing the first notes spread into the room. Eren is watching him still like a statue, like an unfortunate victim of Medusa. It empowers and intoxicates Levi simultaneously but the latter might also be because he actually drank quite a bit.

 

The talented dancer pads towards Eren who does not even blink in his mesmerised daze and only when Levi’s hands settle on his shoulders, he lets the breath he has been holding out. He is so incredibly affected even though they haven’t even started dancing and only contact of their bodies is Levi’s loose grip on his shoulders… Levi cannot help the satisfaction proudly rise within him so he bestows a rare smile to the brunet who is only further spellbound, it seems.

 

It’s Levi who first starts to move.

 

One step closer—their bodies almost touch. ‘Almost’ being the key: there is an inch or so between them, dividing them firmly and teasingly; it is by design. A swing to the left and soon Eren’s arms wrap around Levi’s waist. It is such a gentle embrace. They rock back and forth and to the sides and only after Eren has gotten a grasp of the sequence of the directions that Levi starts with the steps. They move slowly and slightly and Eren relaxes completely into his touch and the motion of their bodies.

 

There is no technique to it.

 

Levi simply follows the music like he does most of the time—it comes naturally to him. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the memories of dancing to Fel Shara with his mother and sister arise, twirling in the middle of the living room of their shabby little apartment, trying to keep up with the foreign-yet-not-so-foreign words his mother would hum… The images do not cross the boundary to his consciousness, as his eyes are focused on the youthful face before him and the pulse of his own heart accompanying the song that has filled all of the small room; however, he feels the most familiar kind of peace diffuse throughout his body, as if he was aware of the reminiscence.

 

Indeed, it is natural to him; as if his genes were written to interact with music and his body sways as a reflex, simply acting out a destiny written and perfected by the Mother Nature in thousands and thousands of years.

 

The melody rises in strength and he leans in, finally closing the maddening cliff between them and it is like he has fallen from heaven to hell—mere touch to another’s body should not feel this electrifying. He dances on people’s laps for a living, for fuck’s sake, yet his fingers dig on Eren’s shoulders with a caprice of want—not of any sexual nature but of intimacy, and as if on cue and perhaps it was exactly that—a cue—Eren’s hold tighten, pulling and securing Levi with a finality to the his own figure. They move as one then—the song soars and drops and so does their speed and Eren continues staring.

 

There’s so much meaning in those eyes that it suffocates Levi—in the sweetest way and he is victim of the most horrible internal strife; to resign or not to, but he should not, he repeats to himself like a mantra inside that he should not. This, he thinks, is an allowance he shall grant himself and Eren. Only a song. Only one dance. The next time, it will be business as usual—that is, only business.

 

But perhaps when he thinks of it, there is a part of him that hopes in the most absurd fashion that the song could last long—almost forever—yet unlike how the time always plays out too slow for him, how he often feels himself as though it is not time passing through him but him constantly waiting for the present to catch up, this time the clock ticks twice or thrice faster, perhaps… At least that’s how he feels, suddenly saddened when he realises the portion of the song playing is near the end. Within less than a minute this will end and he will never be able to experience this moment again—he will never be able to experience Eren, not like this at least. He will dance for him and absorb the gaze on him yet it won’t be the same, will it?

 

Perhaps Eren understands too or is in general rebellious and obstinate, both very likely; for whatever the reason though, he lowers his head and his gaze wavers across Levi’s face. There’s desire there—Levi can see. It is not per se lust, which makes it only worse, because if it was lust, it would be easier to convince himself that this is indeed not a good idea; he would be confirmed in his prejudices. Yet he is not; instead oil is poured into the fire within his anxious spirit and Eren leans, sliding one arm from Levi’s waist to over his shoulder blades, the tender touch dragging a path of burn across Levi’s back.

 

He expects Eren to kiss him. His lips are in fact ready and tingling but the kiss is never received there. Rather, Eren leans in to press a soft peck onto his forehead.

 

Oh…

 

When was the last time anyone kissed him there? He wonders. He cannot remember. Perhaps it was his mother or that one overtly sentimental boy he dated while he was a punk, back in high school. He cannot remember, for the love of… And it must be because of that—he surmises—it must be because of that this feels too much. Because it has been so long that he has been caressed so delicately that this feels too much.

 

Too much that he can barely contain from slipping up a tear or two—shit… What is wrong with him? Maybe he drank too much. Maybe he is getting old and sappy. As “maybe”s invade his mind, Eren leaves another chaste kiss onto the wrinkled skin right between his eyebrows. It would have been better if they kissed on the mouth he thinks; it would not have stirred him this violently inside because he is alight—flames have claimed his insides and he is hazy with heat and rapture. Eren smiles to him, so happily that it is unbearable to witness so he closes his eyes.

 

He shouldn’t have done that, apparently, because as the last notes of the song dissipate Eren presses the softest kiss on his closed eyelid and Levi trembles. He trembles with a fervid intimacy he has not tasted in what feels like a century. He trembles and the song ends and the instant Eren’s lips part from his skin, he pulls himself back and opens his eyes.

 

It is hard to school his face to one of indifference; he tries his best, it must not be too bad because Eren is gaping with a frustrated bewilderment but disentangles his arms immediately as well.

 

Levi coughs. What a joke. Could he make how unsettled he is any more evident? Is he that much poisoned from his solitude that he has clung to this kid like a leech?

 

“See… wasn’t that bad.”

 

“Levi…”

 

“What? You should probably get ready by the way… The club will soon close.”

 

“I know… but…”

 

Levi sighs and this time Eren grimaces. Perhaps his sighs are still functional.

 

“I don’t want to push you or anything but… what was this?”

 

“Shit if I know. A little fun? Unless you didn’t enjoy.”

 

“No—I—I just… want more. If possible.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Okay…” Eren sighs too before palming across his face once… But it seems his stubbornness gets the better of him:

 

“Can’t you just… Is it because you don’t like how I look? Or do I seem pushy? If there’s no reason to it I’m fine with that too but just say so and—“

 

“You don’t even know me Eren.”

 

“But you’re not giving me a chance to know you! Or at least, till tonight I really thought you weren’t interested me in at all and if you had just let me go when you rejected me earlier, then I would’ve forced myself to forget but when you do—this—I mean… Shit… Why would you go and do _this_?”

 

That is a question Levi would like to know the answer to as well.

 

“Look, your expectation of me and the real me are probably very different anyway. You just like the image of me you’ve got in your head.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Oh I can guess pretty well. For example, I’m twenty-nine.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah, ‘wow’, shithead, wow indeed. That’s eight years between us.”

 

“No, I mean… It’s because you look young. But I’m fine with it.”

 

It’s Levi who palms his face this time.

 

“I was reading books and already dancing when you were in diapers.”

 

“So? We are both adults now.”

 

It is a very plausible line of argument, so Levi decides to pull out the big gun. He would rather end this quickly.

 

“I’m not gonna fuck you.”

 

“Wha—pardon?”

 

“I said I’m not gonna fuck you.”

 

“Why did—how—“

 

“And I’m not gonna let you fuck me either. No fucking will occur because I don’t fuck. At all. No sex in my relationships.”

 

“O-okay.”

 

They stare at each other silently until Eren breaks it; “So?”

 

“So—so what?”

 

“Exactly. So you don’t fuck. Okay. Anything else?”

 

“Wait—you’re fine with that?”

 

Eren purses his lips momentarily then shrugs; “Sure?”

 

“Sure? You’re twenty-one.”

 

“So?”

 

“I’m not doing this ‘so’ shit again.”

 

“Are you asexual?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Cool… I’ve always wondered… I’m probably something in between. Kind of grey?”

 

“You popped a boner with me.” Levi accuses, even though he knows boners have nothing to do with asexuality. It is still important; this is an area he will never be able to attend for Eren's possible desires or needs.

 

“Once… God… Levi it was just once! It’s not like I don’t have a libido… I’m just… not really attracted to people sexually most of the time. I think I’ve ever felt like that to like… two people, ever.”

 

“And I’m not one of those people?”

 

“Well… to be honest your body is probably the most aesthetically pleasing thing I’ve ever set my eyes on and I’m very, very terribly attracted to you in many ways but sex is really not one of them.”

 

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

 

Eren snorts; “No… no, I don’t. Though I probably wouldn’t mind fucking you, if you wanted to. I mean you’re gorgeous and you’re really flexible so I guess it could be fun. But if you don’t like to fuck, I’m fine with that too. Basically: I’m not in this for sex, I’m in this for you?”

 

“I just really dislike it. Sex, I mean.”

 

“I don’t but it’s okay. I’m sure there’re things that I dislike and you’re fine with.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Yeah? Oh, do you mind kissing? Or cuddling?”

 

“Those are… okay.”

 

“Okay as in ‘only tolerable’ or okay as in ‘hell yeah why would I mind them’?”

 

“The latter, probably.”

 

“Great, we’re good to go then. I was scared there for a second. I really like kissing. Not that I wouldn’t be in this if you didn’t like kissing. But it’s definitely a bonus.”

 

Levi crosses his arms carefully before his chest. He has not planned for this. He thought Eren would also be very disappointed as most his previous fans had been upon learning of his sexual orientation and personal disgust of the actual act of intercourse. He starts tapping his foot to the ground while Eren stares back at him with hope.

 

It is hard.

 

“I don’t know…”

 

Because he does not. He also loves the way Eren makes him feel and thus hates the way Eren makes him feel. It’s complicated. His emotions are uprooted and all over the place; his heart a disaster zone.

 

“Maybe…” Eren muses out loud, “maybe we could just… go and grab coffee? Or a late dinner or would it be an early breakfast? There’s a 24/7 open diner at the other end of the street right? We could chat? Get to know each other?”

 

Levi regards Eren for a moment and realises that the young man has stopped breathing once again. He’ll die of asphyxiation one of these days if he continues doing this—so why is this particular sign of childish fervour giving all sorts of weird sensations to Levi’s hands and feet?

 

“Fine,” he says, “fine. Only coffee and a meal though.”

 

Eren grins at him and punches the air with his fist like the darned super-eager brat he is. Levi rolls his eyes.

 

“Let me change and I’ll meet you at the front door?”

 

“Oh… okay.” Eren says dejectedly.

 

“It’s -10 out there, I’m not going out in short-shorts and a see-through dress shirt.”

 

“Of course!” Eren scoffs but still looks a bit letdown.

 

“Maybe when the summer comes…” Levi whispers as he opens the door. “I’ll be at the front in fifteen.”

 

“O-okay.” Eren manages to stutter and Levi doesn’t need to spare a look at him to know that he’s watching.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? This is my first time writing about dancing and I cannot dance at all so I hope I didn't butcher the mood. Two aspects of Levi's characterisations here are inspired by two lovely people I've met in real life actually :3 
> 
> I'd be super-giddy if any of you cared to leave a comment or something by the way :3
> 
> (The title is from Rumi's poetry, which is actually religious and his dealing with love is about divine love anyway. Nice mix, huh?)


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